


Dynamics

by CountingWithTurkeys



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: F/F, Mostly Fluff, Pre-Bubbline, Tags Are Hard, music references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 19:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14960591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountingWithTurkeys/pseuds/CountingWithTurkeys
Summary: Bonnibel meant to bring Marceline into her world. She didn't anticipate Marceline bringing Bonnibel into her's in return.Maybe the two are more compatible than she thought.





	Dynamics

**Author's Note:**

> Real talk: I'll be honest, I really needed to write something soft and fluffy after that last chapter of Opening Act. It took a lot out of me, so I needed to recharge. I've had the idea for this story floating around for a couple of months now, but couldn't find a way to make it work. It's tricky bridging the real world within the context of Adventure Time, even if the show does it itself, but I think it worked out nicely.
> 
> And you all seem to love pre-Bubbline and stories from the beginning of their relationship, so hopefully this meets your standards. As always, thank you guys for all your love and support. You know I write for you guys.
> 
> Disclaimer: All of my stories exist within the same universe/continuity - The Symphony Universe - which exists within main canon in a "possible but not necessarily probable" manner. They're just not posted chronologically, because where's the fun in that? All stories contain at least one reference to a future story, because I roll that way. They often contain references to past stories. They also usually hint where they happen within the canon continuity. I like hints.

Bonnibel Bubblegum never put a lot of stock in dreams. She knew some people did, long ago at least. Many of them believed dreams to have profound if not existential meaning. Soothsayers, mystics, she had read about them all, these individuals tasked with interpreting dreams, because the planet’s denizens of the past believed in their very cores that dreams were meant to tell them things, like magic. But Bonnibel Bubblegum was a woman of science and reason; she knew there was no such thing as magic, only that which someone couldn’t explain and so, be it out of simple-mindedness or perhaps just good old fashioned laziness. She knew what dreams were: A succession of images, ideas, and other sensations occuring involuntarily during certain stages of sleep.

When Bonnibel Bubblegum was a child she had all sorts of dreams, and they inspired her, kept her company in her otherwise isolated childhood. Sure, she had Neddy, and she had Science - both the rat and field of study - but she was their provider, the one they looked towards to protect and guide them. Her dreams gave her things to think about during her long days of gathering supplies, kept her company at night when she could hear the creatures of the night creep closer. They gave her ideas of what to build and how to create, but they were always practical, never fantastical. All she knew of fantastic dreams was what she read in the books she found in her travels.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate. She did have this one dream that didn’t fit her normal routine, something she couldn’t place but that she liked all the same. In this dream, backdropped by a song she could not recognize, she was walking alongside someone she could not see, but someone who put her at ease with their presence. The other would say something and Bonnibel would laugh, a genuine and sincere laugh, free from her normal worries about surviving through the day. Every time she had the dream it differed just a bit, just enough, but soft feathers would decorate the ground and it would always end with the other inviting her to dance. They would dance to the song Bonnibel did not recognize, and she would feel at peace, even knowing she would wake up before ever seeing the other person’s face.

She never told anyone about her dream when she was a child. Neddy would never be able to understand, Science never seemed to care, and it was just too personal to share with Young Mr. Creampuff, let alone her makeshift family. Instead Bonnibel sat with that tidbit, locking it in her mental vault, trying to decipher why it simultaneously made her feel so warm, yet so nostalgic, this dream about something that never happened. It was embarrassing to the budding scientist, and so she kept that locked tight in her mental vault, knowing that the only way it would ever get out, that anyone else would ever know, would be if she let it out.

Which she would do roughly one hundred years later.

“Man, that sounds like one weird dream, Bon.”

Bonnibel wasn’t quite sure what compelled her to tell her best friend about her dream that day, but she was quite embarrassed by it, only giving a non-committal sound and nodding. “Mm.” It wasn’t that she was ashamed of it per se, but the young scientist had spent her entire life immersed in secrets and lies and so mistrusted everyone and everything unless it passed a rigorous testing protocol, a protocol designed specifically to drive others away, to give her the space and time she would need to be left to her work. It was her armor, her emotional fortress, her domain.

How Marceline Abadeer waltzed through it so effortlessly would be a mystery she would never be able to solve.

“Do you still get it?”

Another non-committal sound. The two had been friends for over a century and the candy golem was still coming to terms with what to make of the woman floating next to her. When they had first met Bonnibel had been baffled that a person over a hundred years her senior could act like a perpetual child, how she could be immortal but have her mind cemented at the age of nineteen. She had made the mistake of calling the vampire a pesky housecat and learned very quickly to be careful what names you use to taunt a shape-shifter with. Bonnibel had tried to shove the musically-gifted girl away but that in of itself had made the scientist a target for pranking. It became all-out war, a feud that was at times vicious as Marceline demanded Bonnibel ‘loosen up’ and Bonnibel demanded Marceline ‘grow up’.

It took less time than either would like to admit for them to stop seeing the other as a target and start seeing the other as a friend, because somewhere along the way their feud became less of a battle and more of a game, then gentle teasing not entirely unaffectionate. Together they filled in the missing pieces in the other’s life, shared wisdom, or just a meal. They were so different superficially, but they found in each other what they found in themselves, and from that they became inseparable.

“Aw, come on Bon, don’t leave me hanging.”

Piercing green eyes blinked, the stupor fading. “My pardon?”

Marceline laughed, not a taunting sound, but a teasing, knowing one. “Your what now?”

Pink cheeks flushed red. “Now I’m regretting bringing you,” she mumbled, both women knowing she didn’t mean it.

But Marceline Abadeer was nothing if not playful, and so she rolled on her back, placing her hand over her chest. “You wound me, Bon. Look, I’m wounded.”

“No. I’m not falling for that again.”

“I can’t believe you fell for it the first time.”

Bonnibel eyed the floating woman. “I thought we agreed that if I took you with me that you would behave.”

Marceline gasped facetiously, adopting the over-the-top affect she always used in situations such as these. “Is m’lady accusing me of a misdeed? Perish the thought! How shall I ever return to m’lady’s good graces?” Despite herself, the candy golem couldn’t hide the quirk of her lips. Marceline caught it. She always did. “Hah!” She grinned, all need sharp fangs that no longer intimidated the younger woman. “Caught you smiling. I win, dork.”

When Bonnibel Bubblegum was younger she often found it hard to smile. She never considered herself a laid-back individual, and certainly not one who found humor easily. It confused her how easily the vampire made it happen, how when she stuck her forked tongue out teasingly Bonnibel naturally stuck her tongue out back. The vampire was like a force of nature, and though she had yet to learn all about her best friend she knew that she was the last of her kind, she knew why, and she knew the why of  _ that _ why. For someone so titled ‘the vampire queen’ Marceline seemed more like a mercurial imp than a horrifying murder-beast. Even if she did carry an impossibly sharp battle axe. Which she converted into a bass, an instrument she began to strum and pluck.

It was hard not to watch her like that. Bonnibel Bubblegum could appreciate natural environments and knew you could learn all about an organism by their own. She herself, a genius scientist, belonged in a lab, surrounded by chemicals, machines, inventions both finished and unfinished. Marceline Abadeer was a musician, a bassist and lyricist, the self-declared ‘punkest of the punk rockers’, The Scream Queen, and belonged with her bass, standing in front of crowds cheering her name.

Today they were in neither of their natural environments. In fact, they were on an adventure, their first real one together, and Bonnibel was more nervous than she’d ever admit to anyone, herself included. If Marceline was nervous she gave no indication. Her professional experience in maintaining strict composure in stressful and emotional situations certainly couldn’t explain that, no-sir-ee.

Although the two kept pace with one another it really was Bonnibel leading. She was dressed for the occasion, having completed the task ahead of them hundreds of times. Her tan pants, lined with numerous zippers and pockets were tucked snuggly into her thick brown boots that came up almost to her knees, laced tightly to prevent any flesh exposure. Her matching brown tunic was wrapped tightly over her chest, protecting her soft pink flesh from the dust of the area the pair were entering. While there was far less radioactive dust than when she was a small child she was still reluctant to leave too much of herself exposed, even covering her head with a brown helmet the same shade as her boots, made of a soft but durable material designed to limit the amount of time it would take to reshape her hair once the two returned home. She had tried to don the same rose-colored goggles she used as a child, but Marceline had pouted that they were ‘creepy’, and so Bonnibel had acquiesced, relinquishing both her goggles and mask. She kept the long tan gloves, though, she wasn’t insane. She re-adjusted her cobalt blue backpack as she scanned her friend.

Marceline, being an Undead creature capable of healing almost any injury didn’t share or even understand most of Bonnibel’s safety concerns. Even if there still was radioactive dust it could never hurt her, and she was most certainly more dangerous than anything or anyone that would normally pick a fight with the candy golem on days like this. The only true threat to her out here was the sun or, as she called it, the Sky Ball of Death, and she dressed like it. She wore long skin-tight black gloves that fit snuggly over her grey skin and travelled up and past her elbows. Her dark blue jeans were tucked into black combat boots that reached her knees, and though her shirt was only a band t-shirt with what looked like a bird and two lions wearing crowns she was shielded by a large-brimmed yellow sun hat. Her own black backpack was rested on her stomach, under the instrument. Which is decidedly not where backpacks are meant to be worn, but Bonnibel could forgive her, she supposed.  _ It’s not as if she obeys the natural order anyway. _

She tried to keep that thought objective and with absolutely no fondness whatsoever, but it was really hard, okay?

“So how does this work, Bon?” Marceline flipped over, tilting her head. The world was beginning to change around them the more they pressed on. They had begun their journey in the Grasslands, in the cabin the younger woman called home. She had been going over some long and complicated explanation for what the day’s adventure entailed, and like the very good friend she was Marceline had smiled and nodded along, then promptly either forgot or disregarded - she couldn’t keep her story straight - everything she had just been told. But now the scenery was changing, the Grasslands’ lush greenery starting to give way to something else, something familiar, something-

Marceline stopped on the border, freezing where she floated.

Bonnibel sensed the change in her best friend’s demeanor immediately, could identify the moment it went from devil-may-care to… something else, something… sadder. That alarmed the candy golem; she knew the vampire had horrors in her past, some of which she even knew about, but even now Marceline still found too much of it too hard to talk about. In her own way Bonnibel sympathized; how does one explain to your best friend that the homicidal family members you so casually mentioned once were rendered mindless simpletons at your own hand?

“Marcy? What’s wrong?”

Marceline looked over her shoulder, past her best friend, into where she was being led, where she promised herself she’d never go back to, unless She Really Needed To. She opened her mouth to explain, then closed it again. What could she say? How could she answer that question when she scarcely knew the answer herself? Because while Bonnibel’s mind might be full of logic and reason Marceline’s operated symbolically. Great for music, not so great when it comes to the practical aspects of life. But while she may not know for certain she could venture a guess. “...We’re going to the city ruins, right?”

Bonnibel nodded. In any other circumstances she would have teased the musician for stating the obvious, but something was off here, and she suspected she was about to be given a different kind of treasure than she originally sought: insight into Marceline’s past.  _ Maybe I’ll give her a piece of mine in exchange if this is so jarring for her.  _ “Hey, it’s alright. There’s nothing there. I’ve been doing this since I was a child, remember?”

That certainly wasn’t the problem, but there was no reason for Bonnibel to know that. At least, not yet.  _ I’m gonna scare her off at some point, but… that doesn’t have to be today, right?  _ Instead she nodded, cramming that long string of memories down, past her dead heart, around the butterflies in her stomach that were really super annoying but seemed to emerge around the candy golem a lot lately-  _ seriously, what’s up with that?  _ -and to her feet, where they could do no harm. Instead of telling her best friend the truth, any part of it, she lied. She was good at lying. “Huh. Yeah, didn’t think about that.” And then she was crossing the threshold alongside the one woman that could ever convince her to return to the one place she swore she would never return to.

The city hadn’t changed much since Marceline’s childhood. Really, it was just a collection of ruined buildings, toppled through the weight of time. She had seen pictures of them in their prime, before the bombs fell; tall and proud, they stood as an affront to nature until nature fixed that. Memories flooded back to her; scrounging for food with Simon, him teaching her to read through the few books they found, being chased by oozers through old stores whose purposes she didn’t understand that were filled with objects she also didn’t understand. Then there were the little things he knew that even he had taken for granted. ‘Don’t touch those poles and wires, Marcy, they’re filled with electricity and you’ll get zapped. The ground here is made of tar, we can’t plant seeds here because there’s nothing for them to eat. Remember to carry lots of bandages in case you get a cut.’ Yes, the world when she was a child was a harsh one, cold and cruel; even Simon had admitted that were she not half-demon she never would have survived.

It fascinated her that not only had Bonnibel survived she had thrived, and she had done so not only alone but while caring for a brother, a brother Marceline had yet to meet but had heard hundreds of stories of. Well, not  _ hundreds _ , because the vampire had suspected that the other woman was just a tad nervous about the two meeting. But that was an adventure for a different day. Today’s adventure, on the other hand, was a long time coming and soon even her reluctance to return to her childhood home fell away, overwhelmed by her joy of finally being allowed to come along on Bonnibel’s-

“Treasure hunting happens here, huh?”

Not for the first time Bonnibel rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to lecture the older woman once more on the difference between treasure hunting and scavenging, only to close it. There was a certain childlike delight in garnet eyes as she gazed on the ruined city; now that the dread from returning had passed it was replaced with wonder, befitting her mercurial moods. It was hard not to smile, and the lecture transmuted itself into sheer amusement. “It’s not treasure hunting, Marceline.”

“Yeah? What do you call it then?”

_ You know very well what I call it, you’re just trying to get a rise out of me.  _ It worked, too. “Scavenging.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yes. I search the waste of old Ooo for anything that I can use, collect it, and return it to the cabin.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yes. Food, components for my inventions and experiments-”

“So… treasure.”

She sighed. “No-”

“So what’s the diff?” She floated before her, effectively stopping Bonnibel in her tracks. There was the same old playfulness in her voice, curiosity abounds, but something else as well, something even the scientist couldn’t place.

“Scavenging searches waste so that one may collect usable objects. The goal of treasure hunting is to look for precious or otherwise prized items that are of value.”

Marceline smirked her most mischievous smirk, the one that meant she had found a loophole in her best friend’s logic. She was good at that, too. “Yeah, so… what’s the diff? You go looking for stuff to make you and your bro’s life easier or to help you be a brainlord, which makes it valuable, right? I’ve seen your tiny lab, Bon. It’s like your baby.”

Bonnibel opened her mouth to argue, but that took a back seat to- “Did you just refer to me as a ‘brainlord’?” She meant for that to sound more indignant, really she did, but it wasn’t like Marceline to be insulting for the sake of being insulting-  _ so why…? _

“Well, yeah. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, Bon. I once saw you build what I’m pretty sure is a tiny nuclear reactor out of a semi-broken microwave and spare parts you found in the back of your closet. Pretty sure you literally lord over all the brains.”

Bonnibel opened her mouth to argue once more, or at least correct her about what the invention really was, then closed it again when she realized she was blushing furiously, though she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or indignity. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Marceline. Still…  _...Marcy doesn’t say anything unless she means it.  _ Yes, it was definitely from embarrassment. “Figuratively. You mean figuratively, not literally.” And that was the first thing popping out of her mouth.  _ Well done, Bubblegum. _

Marceline laughed. “Whatever you say, Bon. You’re the brainlord,” she sang. “Still treasure hunting, though.” And then she was off, floating along just quickly enough to prevent further discussion, leaving a still-blushing Bonnibel. After a deep, steadying breath, and trying hard not to smile, the candy golem followed her friend.

Once the footsteps caught up Marceline flipped back onto her back, turning to face the younger woman. “See, the problem, Bon, is that you’ve been doing this for like… I don’t know, a hundred years? More? Which, don’t get me wrong, I think that’s really rad, but it narrows your view of what you can look for around here. You’re just so focused on one thing that it makes you blind to all the other things.”

Bonnibel watched her carefully, considering such logic. It was inarguable that the half-demon could be oddly insightful, a by-product of growing up the way she did, her age, and her heritage. Immortal or not, she’d be nineteen forever, but possessed a certain profound maturity when the stars aligned. It never lasted long, but it was impressive all the same.  _ Alright, Marcy. Let’s see where you’re going with this.  _ “And what do you recommend?”

Now the vampire was at her side once more, close enough to make the blush returned. Was that normal for best friends? “Well, think about it, BonBon. You’ve spent your whole life focused on just surviving, but there’s more to life than just that. You gotta have fun, too.”

“I have-”

“And not just experiments,” she laughed. “Yeah, I know you love those, but there’s more than that out there.”

She raised a pink eyebrow. “Oh? Such as?”

Marceline stopped, blinking, dumbfounded. “...Serially?” She tapped her bass. “Stuff like this.”

Somehow, Bonnibel doubt she meant weaponry. After all, the younger woman was quite adept with projectiles. And lasers. And acid. And Marceline knew it. “Music?”

“Yeah! If you surround yourself with just science and junk you’ll get all hard and pointy. Liter-”

“Figuratively,” she teased.

“...Okay, whatever one it is. Point is, there’s more to life, and I’m gonna show you. Clearly my many talents are needed here.” And then she was off again, bass strapping to her back. Whatever reluctance she had possessed seemed to have dissipate, because now she was peeking into various buildings, through various windows, observing various rooftops. In a word, it was endearing.

“Marcy, there’s nothing around here. We have to go further in order to find anything of use to us.”

Marceline smirked. “Yeah?,” she called down. “Bet I can prove you wrong.”

She was not going to dignify that challenge. “And regardless, we must be selective about what we choose to bring home. We have only so much space-”

The vampire laughed, not a cruel or malicious sound, but one that was knowing and good-natured. “Dude, have you forgotten? Shape-shifting pows. And, you know. Super strength.”

It was hard to argue with that logic, even if was based on the supernatural.  _ Which is not magic, and is thus fully within the realm of possibility.  _ She watched the vampire explore the rooftops, something she herself had never had the opportunity to experience. Really, Bonnibel had always meant to build something that would allow her but had always ultimately ended up dismissing the idea as too extravagant. What could the rooftops possibly show her? It’s not like she could see through them.

Still.

“How do the rooftops look?,” she yelled to her friend. When she was a child she would never have dared to yell to the skies, all-too aware of the many creatures all-too happy to steal her stuff and gank her in an alley. Also the oozers. But as she grew she found these threats less and less pressing; the oozers were gone, the thieves and would-be murderers in short supply. Admittedly, she supposed the woman flying above her was probably the reason for both of those, something she was certain she was not supposed to figure out. Marceline was quite protective of the younger woman, but, for whatever reason, had never been forthright with her about it.

Did Marceline get weird fluttery feelings and blush at inopportune moments as well?

“I’m not looking at the rooftops, Bon! I’m seeing what kind of stuff is around us!” Ah. That was actually quite a strong case for the whole ‘explore the sky’ plan she had always dismissed. “What? You never do that?”

Caught. “Actually n-”

And then the vampire was on the ground, grinning. “You wanna change that?”

Bonnibel knew she was being baited again. The half-demon loved taunting her friend, trying to get a rise out of her, considered it a precious past time. She was quite good at it as well, being more in tune with her emotions than the younger woman, who often became flustered when they reared their inconvenient heads. But she had her own advantage over the musician, who was clever but could be outdone in just the right circumstances. Conveniently, such as now. Now she wore a smirk of her own. “Yes, Marceline, I would love changing that.”

Marceline froze, smug grin dropping,  having absolutely not expected that one. No, she had expected Bonnibel’s emotional repression to embarrass her and turn her normally pink face a delightful shade of red.  _...Figs.  _ Challenged and defeated, she sighed in resignation. “Fiiiine.” Before either woman could change her mind Marceline scooped Bonnibel up, supporting her knees and back before taking to the sky. If the young scientist didn’t know any better she could have sworn the vampire’s blush matched her own, but she was, to her shame, too afraid of the possibility to look. Of what it could mean.

She forgot all about her nervousness when Marceline stopped ascending just below the clouds. It rendered Bonnibel speechless, both because she had never seen the world from such an angle and because this marked the first occasion she had flown with Marceline during the day, without the excuse that Bonnibel was just too tired to walk back to her cabin. She craned her neck, scanning the world around her.

“You like what you see?”

Ignoring the possible-innuendo Bonnibel nodded. “Yes! This saves us so much time!”

Behind her, Marceline rolled her eyes.  _ Adorable. Wait, where’d that come from? Eh, I’m sure it’s fine.  _ “So, you got normal haunts you try out when you’re treasure hunting?”

Incorrect terminology not withstanding, she nodded once more. “Yes, I usually start-”

“Cool, I’mma ignore all of those. I saw something I wanna show you.” The scientist turned to her, eyes squinted in faux distrust. “Nah, you’re gonna like it. I promise.”

It was hard to argue with that; Marceline was adamant that she had three rules guiding her life and  _ only  _ three rules, and not breaking vows was one of them. As was not drinking blood.  _ I wonder what the third one is?  _ “Very well, Marcy. Where are we going?” The half-demon grinned but said no more, instead descending slowly as she carried her best friend through her normal territory, past points unfamiliar. Free from the burden of needing to literally keep an eye over her shoulder to assure her own safety Bonnibel absent-mindedly rested her head on her friend’s arm, blissfully unaware that Marceline’s blush had returned in full force. The older woman hadn’t actually answered her, but the candy golem hadn’t really expected her to. Unbeknownst to her the older woman’s flush cleared just as they landed, just as Bonnibel was lowered as if she were made of glass, a curious habit for a woman who head-butted wolves for fun.

Now in unfamiliar territory Bonnibel scanned her surroundings, just as she always did out of habit, trying to assess where they were exactly. They were within a building, that much was easy to see. It was large, too, larger than any of the other structures she had ever explored on her own, more horizontal than vertical. Though the ground had great pitfalls it was made of a material she was unfamiliar with and she kneeled, tracing along it. It looked like stone, but felt smoother and lighter, and an off white, the same shade and material the ceiling - or what was left of it - was made of. But it was firm under her feet, and that was all that mattered for now. Standing, she paid closer attention to the various objects that littered the ground. There were all sorts; books and strange devices and trinkets, nothing of which she recognized, and they were everywhere.  _ Why have I never been here _ bef ore? _ There’s so much to work with here, so many possibilities! _

Her delight was obvious, and when she turned to Marceline she found her friend watching her curiously, wearing a genuine smile in place of her normally devilish smirk. “You like it?” She sounded almost nervous.

“This is spectacular, Marcy. What is it?” She took a step forward-

“I guess you could say… it’s where I grew up.”

-and stopped, retreating back to the vampire whose smile was still genuine, but whose eyes were almost nostalgic. “I lived here for a long time after I lost Simon. It’s called a mall. He told me all about them.” She nodded towards the various piles that looked like junk, but Bonnibel’s trained eyes knew better. “Back when humans ran the world they got a bunch of shops together. They sold all sorts of stuff. It’s where I met Schwabl. He lived here, too. He found me and we’ve been best buds since.” Now her voice turned fond and the scientist smiled. She had met the dog on many occasions and knew just how much her best friend loved her zombie poodle.

“It’s magnificent.” Now she started off proper, walking alongside Marceline, passing a store that was filled with so much shattered glass it was difficult to tell what its purpose once was. “There seems to be no reason towards its organization, or the types of shops offered. Granted, it’s a bit difficult to tell, but still. The possibilities!”

Marceline nodded, floating just ahead. “See, Bon? Treasure hunting. You can find stuff that’ll help your sciencing, but you can find lots of other stuff that’s just for you to enjoy, you know?”

There did seem to be an oddly apropos mixture of the practical and the luxurious. For example- “Oh!” A once-was-a-shop caught her eye and she didn’t hesitate to duck into it, leaving a bewildered vampire to follow, only to find herself surrounded by gadgets and electronics and all sorts of things that she in no way understood, but evidently Bonnibel did because she was grinning like a child in a candy store.

Figuratively speaking. Due to the obvious.

“What is all this, Bon?”

Bonnibel was kneeling now, looking over her shoulder towards her friend briefly. “Have you never been here before?” The question was obviously rhetorical; Marceline never had the greatest track record with electronics unless they were music-related, and there seemed to be a shortage of anything like that. “They look like devices from before the Great Mushroom War. It’s quite rare to find anything from that era in working order, and much of this is salvageable!” For emphasis she held up a square box, something Marceline  _ did  _ recognize: a pre-War camera. “I can fix this! And there’s unexposed film for it!” Already she was pulling her backpack around, unzipping it, and filling it with everything she could get her hands on. “Oh! Soldering boards, Marcy!” 

Marceline had no idea what those small orange and green squares were or what they were for, but that didn’t stop her smile.  _ Yeah. Totes worth it.  _ But as much fun as it was watching Bonnibel eagerly hoard her treasures it wasn’t the main attraction of the trip and so, with a light chuckle, Marceline floated over to her friend, kneeling next to her. “Calm down, Bon. You don’t need to grab the whole place. We can come back here whenever you want. I got nothin’ better to do,” she shrugged. That was mostly true at least; she had a string of concerts approaching, but this was somehow even more fun.

It had the intended effect, though, and Bonnibel stopped, exhaling her mania. “Yes. You’re right. We can come back for everything else.” 

Marceline had a very strong suspicion that ‘everything else’ referred to literally the entire store.  _ Hey, whatever makes you happy.  _ The thought was only half sarcastic. Confusing. When she stood she took the backpack away from Bonnibel, switching it with her own. “Here, you take this one.”

The candy golem blinked, baffled by the out-of-place gesture. “Marceline, I’m not going to make you carry-”

The half-demon laughed. “You’re not making me do anything, nerd. I’m just a lot stronger than you.” She winked. “You can’t help it if you’re made of squishy.” And then she was down the hallway, cackling just as Bonnibel began to correct the gross over-simplicity of her anatomical make-up.

_ Infuriating. She’s absolutely infuriating.  _ Huffing, she followed her friend down the hallway, stopping once more before a shop that was filled with- “Marceline! A book shop!”

The groan was loud and possibly excessive. “Come  _ on _ , Bonnie. I wanna show you something. I promise, we’ll come back for all the books you want later!”

She wanted to argue against that, really she did, but  _ something  _ was clearly exciting Marceline just as much as the electronics shop had excited her, and who was she to begrudge her what her dead heart desired? With a silent promise to the books that she would return tomorrow to rescue them all from their prehistoric prison she continued her path down the hallway, where a half-demon, half-vampire waited for her eagerly. Like the good friend she was she even avoided looking into the rest of the shops, even if she was not-literally dying of curiosity. Yes, the sacrifices she made for their friendship.

“Alright Marcy, what-”

But Marceline didn’t bother with an explanation, flying at top speed into a-

“...Is this… a music shop?”

It certainly  _ looked  _ like a music shop, and a large one at that. She recognized many items from Marceline’s treehouse; there was an unbroken amplifier, a mostly-intact drum set, accessories and trinkets she couldn’t begin to identify. Even the walls were covered with mystery, partially intact posters with bands and concerts alien to Bonnibel but fascinated her all the same; photographs of people -  _ humans  _ \- playing instruments with numbers listed, the significance of which was lost on her; straps for guitars so like Marceline’s own; large metal round things; posters torn beyond recognition. So much from a world she did not understand, that was forever lost.

Realizing that her best friend either couldn’t hear her or was too engrossed to reply Bonnibel smiled, following her deeper in the shop. At least, until she saw something grand and beautiful, something that made her stop in her tracks. “Hey Marcy!”

This time she did get a response, from another room around the corner, preventing her view. “Yeah Bon?”

“Can you play the piano?”

“Huh?”

“There’s a piano out here! Can you play it?”

“Wha?” Marceline poked her head back in the room, following Bonnibel’s hand to the large instrument. It was large and black, settled on two and a half golden feet. It otherwise seemed to be in oddly good condition; no cracks or chips, and the keys were fully intact. It looked almost new.  _ Yeah, makes sense, no one’s gonna drag a piano when the world’s ending.  _  “Oh. Yeah, I can play a piano. That one’s probably outta tune, but…” she trailed off, but when the young scientist continued to stare, didn’t relent her silent question, garnet eyes rolled. “Tell ya what. When we come back I’ll see if I can tune it.”

“Then… you’ll play for me?” Both women were started by how gentle the question was, but Marceline recovered first, her smile gentle, both equally confused as to-  _ what the flip is wrong with me? _

“...Yeah, Bon. If I can tune it I’ll play for you. Promise.” And then she was back in the other room. “Come on! I wanna show you something!”

As she obliged her friend Bonnibel couldn’t help but eye the piano one last time, mentally counting the list of instruments she knew Marceline capable of playing. There had to be half a dozen, and those were just the ones she knew of.  _ How many instruments can you actually play, Marcy?  _ It was a mystery that would have to be solved another day, because once she turned the corner she stopped short, eyes widening at the large contraption before her. “...Oh my.”

“Right?,” she grinned, clearly elated.

“Marcy, what is that?” Without waiting for an answer Bonnibel strode over to the strange box sat on a series of grey boxes, tracing its size. It was a rectangular thing, almost completely flat and made of tan wood, smooth under her fingers, outlined in tarnished gold. Well, except for the parts where it was chipped it cracked. Its top was grey and devoid of decoration, except for a strange metal stick with a weird little tip with a tiny point embedded in it. When Marceline went to touch it Bonnibel instinctively went to pull her hand away from the metal - just in case - but there was no burning, and she supposed it must be steel and she breathed an internal sigh of relief.

“It’s a record player, Bon! It plays those!” Without looking she pointed up and Bonnibel followed her gaze. Whereas the front of the music shop had its walls covered haphazardly this second room, despite being almost as large, was decidedly more organized, covered in large round discs, most of which were black with white text, but others of which were a rainbow of colors, or features strange pictures she could not see from her point of view.

Looking down showed that the discs were, in fact everywhere, though the ones on the floor seemed to be stored in sleeves with elaborate art or photographs, stored vertically in black crates. There were dozens of crates, too, and while not all held the strange discs there was still a plethora.  _ Though I’m sure it’ll never be enough for Marcy.  _ She smiled, watching as Marceline stood, striding towards a seemingly random crate. “See, Bon? Records. I think I can get the player to work.”

“I assume it’s a musical device of some kind?,” she smirked, knowing the answer.

Marceline stuck her tongue out at her before returning to her task. “Yeah, it plays records, Bon. I used to have one, but that was like… a hundred and fifty years ago? Never thought I’d see an intact one again!” As the scientist looked on Marceline pulled out record after record, examining some closely, putting some away hastily. The covers were unique and fascinating to the younger woman, all so different. At least, the ones still intact; she supposed the position of this area of the shop in relation to the rest of the ‘mall’ had protected it from the bulk of the damage, and she didn’t imagine records and their players were huge targets for looters. Only the tell-tale feathers from a nearby owl nest indicated it had been a victim of the human apocalypse at all, really. At least it seemed to keep the records more intact than not, and soon she was joining Marceline in her perusing; even if she had no idea what she was looking for it was a fun activity nonetheless, feeling each disc’s grooves, admiring the art, seeing the beautiful light in garnet eyes-  _...No no no. Just those first two. _

A woman - a  _ human  _ woman - that seemed to be dancing before a strange yellow kite. A drummer hued in purple. An odd blue and gold and green mechanical beetle. A swingset with a child holding a balloon. So many sleeves, all so different, so fantastical. She slid each record back into place, watching Marceline’s calloused fingers dance over the remaining sleeves. “Music really is your life, isn’t it, Macy?”

The vampire nodded. “Yup. Always has been. Music’s always been important to a lot of people, Bon. That’s what Simon always said. Like, every culture he ever studied thought music was, like… the language of souls. Some even thought music could be prophetic,” she said thoughtfully as she flipped past a sleeve that featured three human men and three blue curtains. “It came up a lot in his research.”

Bonnibel was stunned, not by how important music was to her friend, that much was self-evident, but because this was the most Marceline had ever said about this ‘Simon’, the man who raised her, protected her, nurtured her. The man who was the reason Bonnibel had her in her life. “He was a scientist?”

She stilled, and at first Bonnibel thought she may have pushed too far, but instead Marceline seemed almost thoughtful. “I guess? I can’t remember what he called himself. He studied, like… artifacts and legends and stuff.”

The words came tumbling out. “Oh! He was an antiquarian?”

Marceline raised an eyebrow, addressing her friend from the corner of her eye. “Is that someone who studies artifacts and legends and stuff?”

Bonnibel rolled her eyes, nudging her as the older woman chuckled and returned to her perusing. “Yes, Marcy.”

“Then I guess that’s what he was.”

_ Interesting. For many reasons.  _ “Do you believe those legends as well?”

As her eyes lit up a sleeve was finally chosen among the lessers. “Well, music is totes the language of the soul, Bon. It’s got a lot to it. It can make you feel, change your mood, inspire you, uninspire you. It’s pretty powerful.”

Bonnibel nodded, mind involuntarily drafting ideas for experiments to test these weighty claims. It didn’t escape her sharp instincts that Marceline had completely dodged the question as to whether or not it had anything to do with prophecy… but then the vampire had always been a bit tense regarding the very notion of prophecy. They were having a good time, so why ruin it? Instead she watched her friend float to the device, sleeve in hand, fiddling with it. “Are you going to take the record player with us?”

“Uh huh. Just wanna see if it works first.”

_ If not I’ll fix it for you.  _ But Bonnibel didn’t say that. No knowing why, she left it unsaid. Perhaps it was implied. She hoped so.

Marceline lovingly slid the disc out of the sleeve, examining it closely, smiling at what she saw before carefully placing it within the player. With her back now towards the younger woman it was impossible for Bonnibel to see what she was doing. Instead she watched appreciatively, knowing she was witnessing her best friend within her own element. It was beautiful, really, because there were very few things in Unlife that the half-demon was ever serious about, and this was one of them.

And then, suddenly, there was music.

It was scratchy, and even Bonnibel could tell the speakers would need to be either repaired or replaced, but there was music all the same. Music that paralyzed Bonnibel, made her breath catch, because she knew this music, heard it sometimes, and she  _ understood _ : the golden sheen to the player, the feathers surrounding the shop courtesy of the owl infestation that plagued Ooo in cycles, and there was someone else with her and-

“Righteous!” Marceline pulled back, grinning.

Bonnibel shook her head, clearing her thoughts of the silly dream. She most certainly did not believe in prophetic dreams. This was all a coincidence, nothing more. Except, there was a grey hand reaching out to her, its owner’s grin an odd mixture of affectionate and smug. “Come on, Bon,” she urged.

That successfully derailed her train of thought. “Marcy?”

A one-shoulder shrug. “You don’t listen to much music, so I’m gonna guess you don’t know what this is, but it’s called ‘dancing’, and I’m gonna teach you to do it.”

Pink cheeks puffed in indignation. “I know what dancing is, Marceline Abadeer.”

She laughed. “I’m just kidding, Bon. But you wanna be a princess one day, right?”

And then Bonnibel froze for a brand new reason, and that had everything to do with how sincere the other woman sounded, how there was absolutely no trace of taunting or sarcasm. It sounded exactly like- “...You believe me?”

The hand stayed extended, but her smile softened. “Duh. Like I said, Bon, you’re the smartest woman ever. I’ve seen you making those plans for the castle you wanna build, and the way you want your lab to be set up, and all that other stuff you got planned. If you say you’re building a kingdom I believe you, and I’m gonna help. You know that, right?” Deep down, she really did. And her smile must have said it. “See? So if you’re gonna be the most royal of Ooo royalty you gotta know how to dance.”

Perhaps it was the irrefutable logic, or perhaps it was just the one presenting it. Whichever reason, or maybe one she couldn’t bother to think of, Bonnibel took the hand presented to her, standing to meet her. “And how is it  _ you  _ know how to dance, Marcy?”

She chortled at the teasing tone finally returning to her best friend’s tone. “Like I said, Bon. Music is life. I do more than just punk rock, you know.”

Bonnibel allows her hands to be guided, allowed grey hands to guide her. “Oh? Like play the piano?”

The vampire snickered. “You’re not gonna let that go until I play for you, huh?”

It was impossible for the candy golem to stop her smile. “Absolutely not. You just asserted that you’re capable of multiple musical genres, and I must insist on seeing evidence.”

And now the know-it-all tone had returned where it belonged, ill-placed shyness forgotten. “Well, we take the records and player and your weird science stuff home tonight. We can come back tomorrow, go to that book store I know you saw but you totes are pretending you didn’t and I’ll see if I can find some stuff to tune that sucker. Sound good?”

It sounded wonderful.

“Right now, though, you’re getting a dancing lesson, princess.” Her laugh was musical, and how could Bonnibel resist that?

“Is that what you’re going to call me?”

“Isn’t that what your subjects are going to call you?” A raised eyebrow.

“Oh? Does that make you my subject?”

She bared her fangs in a threat that was in no way a threat and they both knew it. “Pretty sure I’m already a queen, Bon. A queen who’s teaching you to slow dance.”

Bonnibel tilted her head, allowing herself to be guided in tune to the music, allowing herself to forget how very similar this situation was to her dreams, how calm she was, how happy that offer, this entire situation made her. It was foreign, but not unwelcome. Yes, she liked the sound of that very much.

Marceline proved to be an excellent teacher.


End file.
